


As Though Fire Burns Under Your Feet

by lovetheblazer



Series: The Every Breath You Take 'Verse [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Asthma, Fire, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight twist on the events of “The Rise and Fall of Sue Sylvester.” Kurt and Blaine are just back from their honeymoon when Dalton catches on fire, with Blaine and all his students still inside. Part of my asthma!Blaine verse. </p>
<p>TW: Fire, obviously, and some medical talk, but no major character injury (no burns) or death</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Must Leave

**Kurt (3:05 pm):**  How's my lovely husband doing today?

**Kurt (3:05 pm):**  God, I'm never going to get tired of saying that.

**Kurt (3:06 pm):**  HUSBANDS, BLAINE. We're HUSBANDS!

**Blaine (3:07 pm):**  What? This is brand new information ;)

**Kurt (3:07 pm):**  Haha, very funny. Clearly that Netflix binge-watch of Friends was put to good use if you're still quoting it.

**Blaine (3:08 pm):**  Sadly, it wasn't possible to have sex for the entire time we were on our honeymoon. We sure did try though...

**Kurt (3:09 pm):**  Hell yeah, we did. I thought we utilized our time pretty well. Speaking of which, I miss you. When are you done?

**Blaine (3:11 pm):**  We're about to start rehearsal. We have to rehearse every day this week since I kinda left them in a lurch to get married and go on our honeymoon (not that I regret that for one second, lest you get any crazy ideas).

**Blaine (3:12 pm):**  We've got a lot of work to do if we're going to be competitive at Sectionals, hence the extra rehearsals. But we'll be done at 5 pm, to answer your question.

**Kurt (3:14 pm):**  Okay, I'm done at 4:30. Want to meet at the coffee shop by Dalton? We're going to need fuel for what I have planned for tonight, if you know what I mean...

**Blaine (3:15 pm):**  Sounds perfect. I'm in. I'll see you a few minutes after 5.

* * *

The Warblers were almost finished with their final run through of Blank Space before Blaine noticed that there was smoke seeping under the door to the choir room. Not wanting to interrupt his students while they were in the zone, he quietly made his way to the door to investigate. He expected to see a smoke bomb left behind by a prankster or maybe a rival Glee club. Or perhaps the headmaster had accidentally burnt another english muffin to a crisp, as Blaine had seen him do in the faculty lounge on more than one occasion. The last thing on earth he expected to see was a blanket of thick black smoke pouring down the hallway. Blaine gasped in shock when through the darkness, he saw bright flames emanating from one of the classrooms at the opposite end of the hall.

“Mr. Anderson?” Mason called, eyes wide as he took in the smoke rapidly filling the rehearsal room.

“There's a fire,” Blaine replied urgently. He swung the door shut again, trying to shield his students from the worst of the smoke. “Everyone get your things, we need to get out now!” He looked around the room, quickly deciding that the door at the far corner that led out to the main entryway and staircase was the safest way to exit the building. Hopefully their path would be clear, because Blaine knew that the flames he saw had to be nudging closer and closer, judging by the amount of smoke.

As if to punctuate the urgency of the situation, the fire alarm began to blare loudly. “Guys c'mon, we're going out this way, single file, quickly!” Blaine shouted over the din. He opened the other door and peered out, relieved that the smoke was less thick there. It was still potent, however, and the persistent tickle in his throat began to morph into something a bit more sinister as he started to cough, lungs burning. “Put your blazer over your nose and mouth, it'll help block out some of the smoke,” he directed, wishing his own jacket was with him and not across the room folded on top of his bag.

“Mason, can you lead the way?” he requested, relieved when he gave a quick nod and did as told without protesting. Blaine held the door open and as the Warblers shuffled past, he took a head count, wanting to be absolutely positive that all of his students were out safely before he left the building.

“It'll be okay,” he soothed, patting a trembling student on the shoulder as he passed. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,” he counted. He frowned as the last student approached the door, knowing from his headcount that they were still two students short. “Joseph, where are Greg and Colin?” Blaine asked, heart pounding.

“Oh god,” Joseph choked out. “They – they said they were going to run to the bathroom, just before we started the last song.”

In unison, Blaine and Joseph swiveled to look towards the other hallway where the nearest bathroom was located. “Maybe they are all already out of the building? I'm sure they heard the fire alarm?” Joseph said in quivering voice, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I'm sure you're right,” Blaine said, more to reassure himself than anything else. “I better go check though, just to be safe.”

“Are you sure?” Joseph squeaked. “There was so much smoke.”

“I'll be fine. Just go, get yourself out of the building now, okay? Once you are out there, make sure someone has called 911. I'll be right behind you. Just let everyone know I was headed towards the bathroom in case I... In case we're...gone for too long,” Blaine finished lamely, trying to hide his terror from his student, not even wanting to speak the worst aloud.

“I – I will, I promise, Mr. Anderson. Please be careful?” Joseph managed, eyes wide with terror. It took one final nudge from Blaine to get him through the choir room door and out towards the front entrance to safety.

As soon as Joseph was out of sight, Blaine was dashing across the choir room. At the last minute, he remembered his earlier advice to his students. He turned around to grab his blazer and covered his face with it. With one last deep breath, Blaine pushed open the door.

The heat and smoke hit him all at once, almost like a tidal wave. His eyes were burning from the acrid smoke, making it hard to see anything through the haze. “Greg?” he called. “Colin?” his lungs were already burning from the effort it took to shout, triggering a coughing jag that he thought would never end.

Blaine could hear the crackling fire. It sounded closer than it had been mere minutes ago. Undeterred, he headed in the direction of the bathroom. Or at least he hoped it was the right direction, because it was so hard to see through the choking black smoke. He felt dizzy, but he knew he couldn't give up. He wouldn't leave his students behind.

* * *

Kurt parked his car in front of the cafe. He frowned when we noticed the usually bustling shop was deserted. He hopped out of the car, squinting in the fading sunlight as he struggled to read the sign haphazardly taped to the door:  _Closed early for repainting. Will reopen tomorrow at 7 am. We apologize for any inconvenience._

“Dammit,” Kurt grumbled to himself, wishing he'd gotten coffee at The Lima Bean before he'd driven up to Westerville. The day had taken a lot out of him, between Sue's most recent antics and trying to repress his strong desire to strangle Myron Muskovitz, the hell spawn of the superintendent and newest member of New Directions. It had been an excruciatingly long day and he was in desperate need of some caffeine and perhaps a blueberry scone or five.

He glanced at his watch, deciding his best bet was to meet Blaine at Dalton. Maybe once Blaine was done, they could get dinner instead of coffee? Kurt could totally go for a bottle of wine and a cheesecake right about now.

Kurt was a few blocks away from the school when he was passed by a speeding firetruck, lights on and sirens blaring. He didn't think much of it until he started smelling a strong odor, reminiscent of beach bonfires. He assumed the fire the truck was responding to had to be close from the smell, but it was hard to tell where it was with the thick grove of trees blocking his view.

Kurt was stunned speechless when he turned down the quiet residential street that led to Dalton Academy. Even from the distance, he could see the huge plume of smoke that was clearly coming from the school, the same school where his husband was scheduled to be at this very moment.

Kurt stepped on the gas, stomach knotting as he got closer and closer to Dalton. It was clear this was no small fire, judging from the half dozen firefighters and ambulances that were already collecting in the parking lot. Kurt could see a group of huddled students in their Dalton blazers, but he wasn't close enough yet to tell if they were members of the Warblers.

He pulled into the first spot he saw, throwing the car into park and jumping out simultaneously. Kurt ran at top speed towards the crowd of students, heart hammering with fear. “Hey, excuse me, are you Warblers?” he asked, tapping the nearest student on the shoulder. “Do you know where Mr. Anderson is?”

“Yeah, we are,” one of the students replied. “Mr. Anderson should be around here somewhere, he was right behind us.”

“Okay,” Kurt managed, spinning as he tried to scan the crowd. Still not seeing Blaine, he dug his phone out of his pocket to try to call him. “Have any of you seen Mr. Anderson?” he asked a group of teachers, anxiety growing as Blaine's phone went straight to voicemail.

“I'm sorry I haven't, but I'm sure he's around here somewhere,” an older woman in a cardigan answered, patting Kurt's shoulder.

“Wait, are you looking for Mr. Anderson?” a freshman asked Kurt. His eyes were wide with fear and it was clear he'd been crying.

“Yes, I'm his husband. He's not picking up his phone. Do you know where he is?” he spat out, desperate for answers.

Kurt was horrified when the student pointed towards the building in lieu of a reply. “What do you mean? He's still in the building?” he gasped.

“I'm Joseph. I was the last one out of the choir room. He realized that we were two students short and went back in after Colin and Greg. They were going to the bathroom right before the fire broke out. I told him to be careful, but it's been at least five minutes, and...” The student trailed off into a sob, leaving Kurt to fill in the rest.

“Oh god, oh no, oh god,” Kurt murmured, racing towards the nearest entrance to the building.

“Wait, you can't go in there!” Joseph called after him. Kurt paid him no mind, focused on one task and one task alone: finding Blaine and getting him to safety.

“Hey hey, wait, you can't come any closer, it's not safe,” a firefighter tried to stop Kurt, grabbing him by the arm.

“My husband is still in there,  _please_. I need to find him,” Kurt yelled, already beyond reason with fear and worry.

“If he's in there, we'll find him. Just stay back and let us do our job,” the firefighter directed, slightly more sympathetic but still resolute. Kurt stared him down, ready to bolt or fight, ready to do anything necessary to get inside the school. He gripped his phone so tightly he thought the glass would shatter. Glancing down briefly, he confirmed that there were still no calls from Blaine.  _Something_  had to be done.

There was a sudden roar from the crowd. “Hey look, someone's coming out!” Kurt managed to make out above the din. He looked towards the entrance, seeing a figure shrouded in smoke. As he stepped closer, he realized it was not one person, but three. All their faces were so blackened by soot that it was hard to identify anyone. Kurt pushed through an unguarded hole in the crowd, running towards them. As he got closer, he could see that two students were supporting a shorter, stumbling person between them, half walking and half carrying him out. The man looked up and suddenly Kurt was sure. It was Blaine.  

“Blaine!” Kurt yelled, running towards his husband at top speed. “What happened?” he asked the students as he reached them.

“We got stuck in the bathroom. He got us out, saved our lives, really,” one of the boys replied gratefully. “There was a lot of smoke. I think he got the worst of it.”

Kurt slid his arm around Blaine's waist, taking on most of his weight. “Kurt,” Blaine managed to choke out before devolving into wracking coughs.

“It's okay, I'm here. The paramedics are coming too,” Kurt soothed, grateful when several medics approached them, helping Kurt carry Blaine over to a waiting ambulance.

* * *

“You really scared the shit about of me, you know that?” Kurt said to Blaine once the paramedics got him situated, took his vital signs, and gave him oxygen.

“Sorry,” Blaine rasped out, leaning into Kurt's embrace.

“I just – I thought you were  _dead_ , Blaine. That after all this time, after all this fighting I'd lost you again,” Kurt shook his head, trying to fight back tears. “When I saw the fire and couldn't find you, that was without a doubt the scariest moment of my life.”

“But I'm here,” Blaine whispered, lacing his fingers through Kurt's. Kurt kissed Blaine's forehead and squeezed his hand tighter.

“We should go now,” the paramedic said quietly, intruding on Kurt and Blaine's silent reverie.

Blaine tugged down his oxygen mask, trying to sit up a little straighter. “I really am feeling a lot better,” he rasped.

Kurt shook his head, all too familiar with how frequently Blaine tried to weasel his way out of doctor's visits. “Does he need to go to the hospital?” he asked the paramedic directly.

“Yeah, he really does. Sometimes with smoke inhalation, a person can feel okay for a few hours or even a whole day and then suddenly crash.”

Kurt nodded soberly, stomach dropping at what the word  _crash_  implied. Things could have been so much worse than they were already. He could have lost Blaine, for good this time. That single thought was enough to shake him to his core. “You're going to the hospital,” he said to Blaine. “End of discussion.”

“Okay,” Blaine sighed, acquiescing. His eyes drifted back to Dalton, now fully ablaze. The firefighters were still struggling mightily to put out the fire, though it was clear that it was a war that they were going to lose. “I just can't believe it's gone. This is the last time I'll probably ever...that it will be...” his voice caught, a lump forming as he realized what he was trying to say. “Dalton was my home, Kurt. It was  _our_  home, once upon a time. And it's about to be gone.”

“I know, Blaine. I know...” Before Kurt could say more, Blaine broke into another violent coughing fit, reminding them all of their priorities. Kurt reached out, tugging Blaine's oxygen mask back up to cover his mouth. “Just breathe right now,” he urged when it looked like Blaine wanted to say more.

One paramedic directed Blaine to lay back on the gurney while the driver shut the back door, then went around front, readying the ambulance for the short drive to the emergency room. Kurt did his best to stay out of the way, gripping Blaine's hand tightly in his as he watched the paramedic work. He undid the front of Blaine's shirt, pulling out a stethoscope so he could listen to Blaine's lungs.

“I'm hearing a lot of wheezing,” the paramedic remarked with a frown. “Does he have any medical conditions? Asthma, COPD, chronic bronchitis, anything like that?”

“He has asthma,” Kurt answered immediately. “God, I'm sorry, I thought I said that earlier. I should have, _shit_...”.

“It's okay,” the paramedic soothed, although Kurt could tell by the crease in his forehead that the additional information was only adding to his concerns. He quickly attached Blaine to a pulse oximeter to monitor his heart rate and oxygen levels, then turned a dial on the canister behind him to increase the flow of oxygen to his mask. He attached another tube to Blaine's oxygen mask, causing a fine mist to emanate from the mask that Kurt recognized as albuterol, the same medication Blaine had in his rescue inhaler.

Kurt's stomach lurched as the ambulance pulled away from the curb, slowly navigating through the mess of students, parents, teachers, and firefighters in the parking lot. Once they turned out onto the street, he was startled again by the sound of the siren, accompanied by red and white flashing lights he could see reflected onto the back door of the ambulance.

Feeling more and more distraught by the second, Kurt turned back to the paramedic, intending to ask him about Blaine's prognosis. Just as he was opening his mouth, Blaine started coughing again, a deep, barking wheeze, his lungs audibly rattling each time he sucked in a lungful of air. “Blaine, honey,” Kurt murmured solicitously, hand stroking his hair. Blaine stared up at him, eyes watery and tinged with the same panic Kurt was feeling. “Just hang on, we're going to be at the hospital soon,” he added, giving Blaine's hand a squeeze.

“Here, let's sit you up a bit. It'll make it easier to breathe,” the paramedic said, reaching down to tug at the lever on the side of the gurney. His other hand gripped the head of the bed with practiced ease, lifting it up until Blaine was nearly upright, his head propped up against the pillows.

“Better?” Kurt whispered, trying to smile encouragingly as Blaine nodded. “I love you,” he couldn't help but add, swallowing back tears as Blaine mouthed “I love you too” as best he could.

“What's your name?” the paramedic suddenly asked.

“Me?” Kurt asked, looking up. He nodded. “I'm Kurt.”

“Kurt, my name is Nathan. Is Blaine your boyfriend?” he asked.

“My husband actually,” Kurt replied, thinking back to earlier today when he'd still been riding the honeymoon high, reveling at the thrill the phrase ' _my husband'_ gave him. A tear ran down his cheek and Kurt angrily wiped it away, not wanting Blaine to see him upset when he knew how scared he himself must be.

“He's going to be okay,” Nathan said calmly. “We're going to take good care of him. Do you think you could answer some questions for me about his health and medical history? It'll help make sure I'm giving him the right treatment and it's important information the doctors at the hospital will need to know too.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help.”

“Okay great,” Nathan began, “other than asthma, does he have any other major medical issues: diabetes, a heart condition, epilepsy, anything like that?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Good,” Nathan said, making a notation on the clipboard he was holding. “What about allergies?”

“He's allergic to sulfa antibiotics, I think they're called?” Kurt asked, looking to Blaine for confirmation. He managed a weak thumbs up.

“Sulfonamides?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah, those,” Kurt verified.

“Okay, what about daily medications? What does he take for his asthma?”

“He takes Claritin, mainly for allergies, although I think it helps the pollen not trigger his asthma too. He has an albuterol inhaler for attacks and then he has two controller inhalers he's supposed to take every day, Atrovent and the other one starts with an A too, oh  _crap_ ,” Kurt struggled to finish the name on the tip of his tongue. “It's a purple disk-looking thing...” he added.

“Advair?” Nathan prompted.

“Yes, Advair – that's it,” Kurt concurred. “That's all he takes on a daily basis, medication wise.” Nathan nodded, scribbling everything down.

Kurt gazed down at Blaine, noting how pale he was. “You hanging in there, sweetheart?” he couldn't help but ask, stroking his thumb across Blaine's cheekbone. He waited impatiently until at last Blaine registered what he asked, his eyes finally fluttering open after seconds that somehow felt like hours.

“M'chest hurts,” Blaine whimpered. “ _Kurt,_  so tired.”

“Oh honey,”  Kurt breathed, hating how helpless he felt. “You're going to be okay, we're almost to the hospital. Just a little bit longer, okay?”

Blaine's eyes held his for a long moment. At last, he signaled his agreement, drawing a shuddering breath. “Stay?” he begged.

“Of course,” Kurt reassured. “I'll be with you the whole time. Remember what we promised?” he prompted Blaine, tracing over the wedding band on his finger. “In sickness and health.”

Blaine nodded, the barest hint on a smile on his lips. Kurt resumed stroking his hair, not fighting to keep Blaine awake when his eyes slid shut again. Instead he allowed himself to be soothed by the steady beep of the monitor that sounded with Blaine's every heartbeat. He felt the ambulance slow as they neared the hospital. Kurt took a steadying breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for the chaos that he knew the hospital would surely entail. He looked down at his hand, still intertwined with Blaine's; he knew that whatever was to come, he and Blaine would face it as they always had: together.


	2. Leave As Though Fire Burns Under Your Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Detailed descriptions of medical procedures and references to fire. 
> 
> I did a fair amount of research on smoke inhalation to try to make the medical jargon and treatments Blaine received as accurate as possible. However, I'm not a medical professional so there may be some small inaccuracies.

The thing that scared Kurt most was seeing the crowd of medical professionals that met the ambulance as it pulled up to Westerville Memorial Hospital. He'd had his fair share of hospital experiences in the past. Hell, he'd even taken to Blaine to the exact same hospital before after a particularly bad asthma attack, albeit many years ago when he and Blaine were both still students at Dalton. But in all his visits to the hospital with Blaine and his dad, he'd never seen such controlled chaos. It was clear that the doctors and nurses had been briefed for Blaine's arrival and that terrified Kurt.

He had to fight to stay at Blaine's side as the medical professionals descended upon the ambulance.  His gurney was quickly lifted out of the ambulance and Kurt had to jump out, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to return to Blaine's side. A swarm of doctors and nurses rapidly pushed the gurney  towards the double doors that led to the emergency room. Kurt ran alongside them, matching stride for stride, all the while keeping a tight grip on Blaine's hand, remembering the promise he'd made him in the ambulance:  _stay_. And stay he would, even if it seemed like Blaine was no longer registering his presence or touch.

“Okay sir, if you could just come with us, we have some questions and some paperwork for you to fill out,” a kindly middle-aged nurse said as they entered the emergency room and neared the door to the treatment room.

“I need to stay with him,” Kurt was resolute.

“Once he's stabilized, you'll be able to see him, but for now we really need to get some information from you,” she said, trying to gently steer him by the shoulders away from Blaine's side.

“I promised. He's my husband,  _please_ ,” Kurt choked out a panicked sob. “I don't want him to be alone. He was so scared.”

“The room has a window, see?” the nurse's voice was softer now as she patted his back. “You'll be able to see him while the doctors are working on getting him stabilized. And I'll stand out here with you and explain what they are doing while I get some information from you, okay?” She tapped Kurt's hand which was still stubbornly holding tight to Blaine with everything he had in him. “You've got to let go so they can start helping him. C'mon sweetheart.”

Kurt drew a deep quavering breath and let go of Blaine's hand, certain it was the most painful thing he'd ever been asked to do.

“That's good. He's going to be okay,” the nurse tried to soothe. “Is there someone we can call to be with you? Someone who can help keep you calm until your husband is stabilized?”

“I...” Kurt bit his lip, fighting the overwhelming urge to burst into tears. “I need to call his mom. She needs to know that he's... That he might...” Kurt couldn't finish either thought.

“Alright hon, why don't you do that now and then I'll ask you some questions about your husband's medical history. Do you want to sit down? You look really pale.”

“No,” Kurt shook his head, taking a step towards the treatment room where Blaine was. He could barely see Blaine for the flurry of medical professionals working on him. “I want to be able to see him. I  _need_  to be able to see him.”

“Of course, why don't you make your phone call then. Just keep taking deep breaths, okay?”

Kurt nodded, forcing himself to breathe. _In. Out. In. Out._  He tugged the phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he found Mrs. Anderson's number, grateful that he'd stubbornly refused to delete it from his phone through two break-ups with Blaine. Another deep breath and he was dialing before he lost his nerve. He gazed at Blaine in the treatment room while he waited for the call to connect and tried not to be terrified by how still he was.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Anderson?” Kurt tried to keep his voice steady.

“Hi Kurt honey, how are you? And like I told you at the wedding, call me Pam or Mom!”

“Okay Pam,” Kurt managed.

“Is everything okay, Kurt?” she prodded, sensing something was off with his tone.

“Not really,” Kurt sighed heavily. “There was a fire at Dalton while Blaine was rehearsing with the Warblers and he ended up inhaling a lot of smoke.”

“Oh my god, is he okay? Was he burned? Are the other students okay?” Pam let out in a rush.

“Thankfully no burns and the other students are okay. But Blaine was having a lot of trouble breathing so we had to take him in an ambulance to the hospital. We just got here a few minutes ago and they are working on him now,” he explained. “They wouldn't let me stay in the room with him,” Kurt choked out, succumbing to the emotion simmering under the surface.

“Oh honey, it's going to be okay,” Pam tried to reassure. “They know he has asthma, right? And what medicines he's on?”

“Yeah, I told them,” Kurt managed.

“What hospital are you at?”

“Westerville Memorial.”

Kurt could hear rustling on the line “I'm grabbing my keys now, Kurt. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay? If anything changes before I get there, please call me?”

“I will,” Kurt promised.

“Okay, I'll be there as soon as possible.”

Kurt's hands were shaking as he pushed the button to disconnect the call. Telling Blaine's mom had made the whole surreal experience feel real.

“Is someone coming to be with you?” the nurse asked, having momentarily stepped away to give Kurt some privacy.

“I called his mom. She'll be here in ten minutes,” Kurt said. He looked back to Blaine in the treatment room, noting with no small amount of relief that the crowd of doctors and nurses appeared to be dwindling somewhat. “How's he doing? Are the doctors helping him?” he asked the nurse, needing to understand.

The nurse nodded. “Right now they are giving him oxygen and breathing treatments with a nebulizer to help calm down the inflammation in his airway. They also started an IV so they could give him other medications to help his breathing like steroids.”

“Okay,” Kurt acknowledged, having anticipated both those things from his previous experiences in dealing with Blaine's asthma attacks. But he still sensed there was something more that he wasn't being told. “The paramedic said something about how with smoke inhalation there's sometimes a delayed reaction. Is that something I need to be worried about?”

“Why don't we just cross that bridge when we come to it, if we come to it?” the nurse suggested.

“ _Please_ , I need to know so I can be prepared if...” Kurt swallowed hard.

The nurse sighed.“Yes, that's sometime the case. They'll need to run some tests to see how his lungs and airways are holding up. They'll check to see if he has any burns in his nose or throat because that's often a sign that there was prolonged or severe smoke exposure. I think they already did a chest x-ray as well. And I'm sure they are going to want to keep him, at least overnight, given how much trouble he was having breathing when he first came in,” the nurse gently laid out for Kurt.

Kurt's legs started to shake and he had to lean against the wall to keep from sliding to the floor. He wanted to break, to collapse, to just  _surrender_  to the overwhelming terror and fear he was feeling. But he knew he couldn't because he needed to be there for Blaine. “He kept saying his chest hurt in the ambulance. That's... bad, right?”

“It's understandable.” Kurt couldn't help but notice that she didn't disagree. That thought wasn't very reassuring.

“When can I see him?” Kurt asked, knowing that if he could just  _touch_  Blaine, he might be able to get through this.

“Hopefully soon.”

Kurt stepped up to the glass window in the treatment room door, struggling to see Blaine more clearly. It was hard to tell, but he swore that he could see Blaine's hand moving ever so slightly. Kurt pressed his palm to the glass, wishing desperately that he could be inside to hold his hand instead.

“Do you think you could answer a few questions about his medical history now?” the nurse prompted. Kurt nodded.

“Okay, do you know when he was diagnosed with asthma?” she began, glancing at a clipboard with some paperwork on it.

“He was a kid. I think he was five, but his mom will be able to tell you for sure. Somewhere around that age though,” Kurt replied.

“And what does he take for his asthma now?”

“Atrovent and Advair inhalers daily and his rescue inhaler whenever he needs it.”

The nurse scribbled down his responses. “Do you know about how long he was exposed to smoke?”

Kurt shook his head. “It was at least five minutes, probably a little longer than that, but I wasn't there when the fire started so I'm not sure.”

“That's okay, it still gives us a time frame,” the nurse assured him. “You said you were his husband?”

“Yes,” Kurt breathed.  _Husband_. He still hadn't gotten used to saying that.

“And what's your name? I'm going to list you as his next of kin on this paperwork,” the nurse explained.

“Kurt Anderson-Hummel. Anderson is his last name.”

“Hi Kurt, I guess I never introduced myself either, but my name's Betty.”

“Okay, hi,” Kurt said with a total lack of interest. It was hard to care about introductions when his husband was critically ill.

“I'm going to go in there for a second to give them this information and see if there's anything else they need to know. I'll see if I can get an update on how Blaine's doing while I'm in there, okay?” Betty said.

Kurt nodded. “Can you ask them if I can come in and sit with him? Please? I'll stay out of the way. I just  _need_  to be there.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Betty finally agreed. “No promises, but I'll try.”

“Of course, thank you,” Kurt was overcome with relief. He watched as Betty pushed open the door to Blaine's treatment room. As it swung wide, Kurt could make out the distinct sound of Blaine whimpering. He felt as if he'd been stabbed in the gut, so fierce was his desire to storm inside to comfort Blaine, no matter the consequences. But Kurt allowed his rational mind to prevail, knowing that getting kicked out of the treatment room would help no one, least of all Blaine.

Less than a minute later, Betty was opening the door again and motioning for Kurt to follow her. “Okay, you can come in. The doctor thinks it might help calm him down a little so he can finish the exam.” Kurt was immediately at Betty's side and being led to a small stool at Blaine's bedside. Blaine's eyes were closed but Kurt could see the tears leaking out.

“Blaine honey,” Kurt called, taking his hand.

“Kurt,” Blaine rasped, barely audible. He dragged his eyes open with considerable effort, his body slumping with relief once he laid eyes on his husband.

“I'm here, it's okay,” Kurt soothed, wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

Blaine's mouth was moving, but no sound came out. “Shh, don't try to talk right now. Just breathe, baby. Everything's going to be fine.” Kurt wished he could believe the reassurances he gave Blaine.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand tightly in his, gripping it with every bit of strength he had left as if he expected Kurt to simply vanish at any moment. “M'head,” Blaine moaned, just loudly enough for him to make it out.

“It's hurting?” Kurt clarified.

Blaine winced, then nodded. “Okay honey. I'll tell someone.” He turned to the doctor who was hurriedly conferencing with several nurses. “He's in pain. His head is really bothering him.”

“I know it is. We'd like to be able to give him something for the pain, but most painkillers have the unfortunate side effect of slowing down breathing. Once he's a little more stable, we should be able to treat his pain. But for now, his oxygen saturations are too low for me to feel comfortable giving him anything,” the doctor explained.

Kurt felt sick. It wasn't  _fair_. None of this was fair. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked helplessly.

A different nurse who was hanging an IV bag filled with fluids shot him a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry, I know it's hard to see someone you care about in so much pain. Just try to talk to him and keep him distracted. That will help.”

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He wouldn't cry or show the panic he was feeling, not when Blaine needed him so much.

Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the hospital bed so he could lace his fingers through Blaine's. With his other hand, he cupped Blaine's cheek, running his thumb along the cheekbone in what he hoped was a soothing rhythm. “Blaine honey, can you look at me for a second?”

The furrow in the center of Blaine's forehead deepened as his eyebrows drew down in pain, but after a long moment, he blinked up at Kurt with watery eyes.

“Hi,” Kurt said with a sad smile. “I know you're in pain, but you're doing really well, baby. You're being so brave. The doctors are going to keep helping you with your breathing and it'll get easier soon, I promise.”

“So tired,” Blaine choked out. Kurt watched his chest heave up and down rapidly. He could only imagine how exhausting it must be to have to fight that hard for breath for a minute, let alone an hour.

“I know you are. Just focus on your breathing. You don't have to talk or even stay awake if it's too hard.”

“Can't sleep,” Blaine whispered hoarsely. He started to say more but then broke off into a barking cough. Kurt watched him recoil in pain as he coughed and wheezed. Blaine closed his eyes for a second and several hot tears spilled onto his cheeks. “Hurts too – much,” he finally finished.

“Oh sweetheart,” Kurt breathed, eyes filling with tears of his own. “I know, I know it hurts. What can I do?” He hated how helpless he felt. Remembering how much Blaine liked it when people played with his hair, he began stroking his hair. Still, it didn't feel like enough. It  _wasn't_  enough.

“Don't leave,” is all Blaine said.

“I won't, I swear. I'm sorry they made me stay outside for awhile, but I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, okay?” Kurt promised.

Blaine nodded and gripped Kurt's hand tightly. His eyes slid shut again and Kurt hoped if nothing else, it might lessen the headache a bit. The overhead lights were bright and fluorescent and he had to imagine it was the last thing a person with a headache would want or need.

“I called your mom and she's going to be here soon too,” he added, hoping it might bring Blaine some small measure of comfort.

Blaine's eyes fluttered open and he gave Kurt what he initially interpreted to be a grateful look. But seconds later his face was crumpling and he was crying in earnest.

“Baby, what is it? Do you not want her to come? What's wrong?” Kurt gasped.

Blaine shook his head. He coughed again, the force of it wracking his whole body.

“Breathe, just breathe,” Kurt urged, wishing he could give Blaine the breath from his lungs. Anything to end this torment.

“I – want my – mom,” Blaine finally hiccuped out between gulps of air.

“Of course, honey.” Kurt felt relieved that he'd managed to do one thing right, to provide one thing that Blaine needed at least. “She said she would be here in ten minutes, so she should be walking in any minute now, okay?”

Blaine nodded, crying harder still.

“Shh Blaine, don't cry. It'll make your breathing worse.  _Just_...” Kurt paused, trying to come up with something he could use to distract Blaine. “Close your eyes for a second, hon.” He sensed Blaine's hesitation and rushed to reassure him. “I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I won't let you go,” Kurt squeezed his hand to punctuate the statement.

Blaine finally let his eyes flutter closed. Tears kept sliding down his cheeks almost as fast as Kurt could wipe them away, but Kurt could sense him settling down somewhat. “I want you to picture us in Provincetown like we were a few weeks ago, okay? No hospitals, no fire, no stress or pain. Just you and me in that ridiculously ostentatious hotel suite. Remember how we could practically go swimming in that giant jacuzzi tub? And remember how soft the bed was? You said it was like sleeping on a cloud. I want you to imagine that's where we are right now. And we're just lazing around and drinking champagne and eating those chocolate-covered strawberries you loved so much.” Kurt looked down and noticed that the rise and fall of Blaine's chest was slowing. It was still way too fast and his breathing was noisy and more labored than Kurt would like, but it was noticeably improving.

Kurt was preparing to continue with his trip down memory lane with Blaine when the doctor tapped him on the shoulder. “We'd like to try to examine his airway now that he's a little calmer. It would be great if you could keep talking to him like you've been doing to try to keep him distracted while he do the exam.”

“Of course,” Kurt agreed. “But what does this exam entail?”

The doctor sighed. “We need to put a small instrument with a camera on it through his nose and down into his throat a little. We'll numb his nose first but it's not pleasant. It should only take a couple of minutes though and it's crucial to see if there's any soot in his airway or burns to his nose or throat.”

Kurt couldn't help but wince in sympathy. Still, knowing that it was necessary, he said, “I'll do whatever I can.”

“Great, we'll go ahead and get started now then,” the doctor announced, signaling the nurses. They brought over a small tray draped with a blue surgical towel upon which sat a bunch of medical equipment Kurt didn't recognize. He tried not to look very closely, figuring the less he knew about what they were doing, the easier it would be to keep his focus on distracting Blaine.

“Blaine, the doctors are going to look in your throat now, okay? Just keep your eyes closed and try to picture our honeymoon. I'll be right here,” Kurt said.

“We're going to spray some numbing spray in your nose now,” the nurse warned Blaine.

“Just squeeze my hand, honey,” Kurt encouraged. Blaine flinched and grimaced as the nurse squirted the medication into each nostril and then he was coughing and retching slightly.

“I know, I know,” he soothed. “I want you to think about us on the balcony of our hotel room. Remember that night we watched the sun set over the water? You said you wanted to move into the lighthouse when he retired so we could make jam and knit and host campfire sing alongs.” Kurt found his eyes welling up at the memory he was sharing with Blaine, thinking how desperately he wished they could go back to escape the hell they'd found themselves in.

Kurt sensed movement and chanced a glance over at the medical team across from him. The nurse was  moving Blaine's oxygen mask so it covered his mouth but not his nose in preparation for the procedure. Another nurse repositioned Blaine's head slightly, keeping one hand on his shoulder and another next to his jaw. Kurt assumed it was to keep him still during the exam. The idea that Blaine would need to be held down made him so sick to his stomach that he had to look away. He  _couldn't_  watch.

Instead, he brought their intertwined hands to his lips, kissing across Blaine's knuckles. He stroked Blaine's hair but very deliberately wouldn't look at his face as the doctor said “okay” and began the procedure.

Kurt felt Blaine stiffen as the exam got underway. His hand crushed into Kurt's with everything he had left. He made a heartbreaking whimpering sound and then went utterly silent and still. Kurt kept a steady stream of encouragements coming, mixed with whatever happy memories he could conjure up from their honeymoon, though he wasn't sure if Blaine was even hearing him or registering what he said anymore. Then Blaine squeezed his hand and the relief that washed over Kurt was so immense, it made him breathless.

“Almost done,” the nurse announced.

“You're doing so well, Blaine. I'm so proud of you,” Kurt encouraged, eyes welling up with admiration for his husband.

“Okay, I think we've got what we need for now,” the doctor said with finality and then he was pulling back.

Blaine coughed and wheezed as they removed the instrument and the nurse repositioned the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. “Try to take some nice deep breaths for me, Blaine,” she urged.

Kurt decided it was safe to look now that the procedure was over. He looked down at Blaine, heart sinking as he took in his pale, tear streaked face and the slightly blueish tint to his lips that was noticeable, even underneath the oxygen mask. “Oh honey,” he sighed as he began wiping the tears from Blaine's cheeks.

“The worst part is over,” he told Blaine, hoping against hope that what he said was true. “Just try to rest and breathe, okay?” Blaine managed a weak nod in reply, too spent for anything else.

Kurt felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from Blaine's cheek and grabbed his phone. The screen lit up with Mrs. Anderson's name and he answered quickly.

“Hello?”

“Kurt, it's Pam. I'm here in the ER, but this idiot nurse at the front desk won't tell me anything or let me come back to Blaine's room. Where are you?” Her voice was frantic.

“Uhh, I'm not 100% sure, I wasn't paying much attention to room numbers. Hang on, I'll ask,” Kurt said. He turned and called out to the nearest nurse. “Blaine's mom just arrived and she'd like to come back and see him and get an update on his condition. Where does she need to go?”

The nurse looked unsure, exchanging a glance with the doctor in charge. “It's fine,” he said. “We might as well give them both the information at the same time. Why don't you go out to the waiting room and escort her back here while I page the pulmonary department to send a doctor down to admit him?”

The nurse nodded briskly and headed for the door.

“Mrs Anderson?” Kurt said into the phone. “Just stay where you are. One of the nurses is going to come out to the waiting room to get you and bring you back here now.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Anderson said with a sigh of a relief. “Thanks, Kurt. I'll see you soon.”

Kurt hung up the phone and looked down at Blaine. His eyes were closed but it was clear from the furrow between his brow that he was still in too much pain to sleep. “Sweetheart,” Kurt called, stroking his hair. “Your mom's on her way back to see you right now.”

Blaine's eyes fluttered open at the news. He gazed up at Kurt with watery eyes. “You'll still stay?” he murmured.

“Of course, of course, I'll be here the whole time. I'm not leaving this hospital until we go home together, okay?” Kurt promised.

“Okay,” Blaine echoed gratefully. His eyes slid closed for a moment as he winced in obvious pain. “My chest hurts,” he moaned quietly.

“I know, baby. I'll ask the doctor when they can give you some pain medicine once he gives us an update on how you're doing.” Kurt squeezed his hand, hating how helpless he was to do more to ease Blaine's pain.

The doctor must have overheard their conversation, because he walked over to them. “I can go ahead and give him Toradol now which is an anti-inflammatory pain reliever. It won't provide the same relief that a narcotic painkiller would, but I think it might help somewhat.”

“That would be great,” Kurt sighed with relief.. “We'll take anything that might help, even a little.”

The other nurse stepped forward with a syringe and emptied its content into one of Blaine's IV ports. “It might burn a little bit going in,” she warned.

“Blaine, I know your chest is hurting a lot, but it's important that you try to breathe as deeply as you can, okay?” the doctor began. “When patients are hurting, they tend to take rapid, shallow breaths and that can lead to complications like pneumonia, which is a big concern after smoke inhalation. We're giving you IV antibiotics to try to minimize that risk, but breathing deeply will also help.”

Blaine nodded with considerable effort. Kurt watched his chest heave as he tried to slow down his breathing without much success.

Suddenly, the door to the treatment room burst open and Pam was flying across the room to Blaine's side almost immediately. “Blaine sweetheart,” she managed through her tears, bending down to kiss his forehead. She walked around to the other side of the bed so she could take his free hand.

“Mama,” Blaine choked out, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“It's okay, I'm here. It's going to be okay,” she soothed, squeezing his hand. Kurt watched her take everything in, seeing the two IV lines running into Blaine's left arm, the three separate bags of medication hanging on the IV pole overhead, the oxygen mask, and the heart monitor. She swallowed hard and then looked up, exchanging a worried glance with Kurt.

“How's he doing?” she asked. Kurt could only shrug helplessly, looking to the doctor for guidance.

He strode over, sticking out his hand as he introduced himself. “Hi, I'm Dr. Williams, I'm the ER doctor who's been taking care of your son. Why don't you have a seat and then we can talk about Blaine's condition and treatment?”

A nurse retrieved a small stool from across the room, rolling it over to Blaine's bedside so Mrs. Anderson could sit beside him and continue holding his hand. Mrs. Anderson looked down at Blaine, frowning a little. “Would we be better off talking in the hall?” she asked. Kurt sensed her hesitation to discuss the gritty details of Blaine's prognosis in front of him.

“Stay,” Blaine ground out. “Need – to know.” Kurt nodded his assent, reluctant to leave Blaine's side. He knew that no matter what the doctor said, they would face it together. He couldn't blame Mrs. Anderson for questioning that, as she hadn't seen the courage Blaine had displayed over the past few hours. Still, Blaine was a lot stronger and braver than his mother was giving him credit for being.

“Okay honey,” Mrs. Anderson acquiesced, the naked anxiety still written all over her face.

The doctor opened Blaine's chart and began to explain his condition. “Alright, so when Blaine came into the ER tonight, he was having severe bronchospasms and his oxygen saturation levels were in the mid 80s despite receiving oxygen by mask and albuterol. Since then, we've added IV drips of steroids and magnesium to help reduce the airway inflammation and his oxygen saturations have come up slightly to 90%. We were able to look at his upper airway with a laryngoscopy and while we didn't see any burns which is promising, there was a fair amount of soot. That tells me that Blaine inhaled a lot of smoke and that it's impacting his oxygenation. We also drew blood gases to check his carbon monoxide level since that's a by product that's produced when a fire breaks out. His carbon monoxide level was moderately elevated. Blaine, that's most likely why you have such a severe headache. Together, those things have me concerned enough that I'm recommending that he be admitted to the ICU overnight for very close observation. While he's there, he'll continue to receive oxygen and continuous nebulizers until the airway inflammation calms down significantly. I've also asked a pulmonary specialist to consult on his case. He'll probably want to do a bronchoscopy to check for damage to his lungs.”

“What's a bronchoscopy?” Kurt asked, mind reeling.

“It's similar to the exam we did earlier with the camera that looked at his upper airway, except that this tube goes down a lot farther so that we can actually visualize inside his lungs.”

Kurt was horror-stricken. “That sounds like torture.”

“He will be heavily sedated for the procedure. He won't even be aware or conscious while they do it,” the doctor reassured.

Kurt and Blaine breathed twin sighs of relief.

“When would they want to do that?” Mrs. Anderson asked.

“Well, don't quote me on this, because the pulmonary doctor could change his mind, but I don't think they'd do it until tomorrow. We want to give Blaine a chance to rest first and it's less dangerous if we wait until his bronchospasm improves. During that test, the doctor will also be able to wash out his airway if necessary to remove any soot or debris that has been inhaled into his lungs which will help reduce the risk of pneumonia,” Dr. Williams patiently explained.

Kurt shivered slightly, already overwhelmed with the possible risks. “You mentioned that pneumonia is a possible complication. What are the others?” He needed to know so he could be prepared.

Dr. Williams sighed. “The most severe would be acute respiratory distress syndrome. It's fairly rare, especially when there aren't burns to a patient's airway but it can develop up to several days after prolonged smoke exposure. That's one of the reasons I want Blaine to be in the ICU tonight, so that his vitals can be continuously monitored. That way if he starts to experience more difficulty breathing, we can act right way.”

“And when you say act right away, what do you mean? What would you do?” Pam prompted, her face a tight mask of fear.

“In that situation, they would give him medications to paralyze his airway so that it couldn't swell shut and then they'd intubate him. A respirator would breathe for him until he recovered.”

“Jesus,” Kurt swore under his breath. He looked down at Blaine to see how he was coping, stomach churning as he saw the fresh tears glittering on his cheeks. “Shh, it's going to be okay,” he whispered.

“What are the other possible complications?” Mrs. Anderson asked. “I want to be prepared.”

“Other more common and less severe risks would be an infection of some kind like pneumonia, as I already mentioned, or bronchitis. There could also be scarring to his lungs which would lead to a worsening of his asthma. We also expect that his throat will be very sore and irritated for at least a week and his voice will probably be hoarse as well due to the irritation to his vocal cords. Those are the main things we'll be looking out for over the next few days,” the doctor finished.

Blaine tugged on Kurt's hand to get his attention. Kurt bent with his ear to Blaine's lips, trying to make out what he was saying. “How long?” Blaine panted.

“Oh,” Kurt finally understood. He turned to Dr. Williams. “About how long do you expect him to stay in the hospital?”

“That really depends on how he does and how well he responds to the treatments. I'd estimate at least three days but in all likelihood it could be more like a week. The doctors who will be managing his case once he goes upstairs to the ICU will be able to give you a better idea, I suspect.” Dr. Williams paused for a moment, giving the three of them a chance to absorb the information. “Other questions?” he prodded.

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a glance, both shaking their heads. “I don't think so, at least not right now,” Mrs. Anderson answered. “Thank you for all your help.”

“My pleasure,” Dr. Williams shook hands with Pam and Kurt. “I'm going to leave you in the competent hands of Nurse Annabelle now, but I'll be back to check on Blaine again in a bit. Don't hesitate to use the call button if there's something we can do for you.”

* * *

“Kurt?” Blaine called quietly, disoriented by the darkness.

“I'm here, honey,” Kurt whispered, squeezing his hand. “Do you need something?”

“Can't see you,” he whimpered.

“Hang on a second.” Kurt fumbled around in the dark, his fingers finally connecting with the light switch on the wall behind Blaine's bed. “Close your eyes, baby. It's going to be bright,” he warned.

He flicked on the overhead light, illuminating the ICU room. Kurt gazed at Blaine, noting how pale he was, the wan fluorescent light giving Blaine's skin a slightly unearthly greenish tint.

“How are you feeling?” Kurt asked, stroking his hand across Blaine's brow.

“Don't feel so good,” Blaine moaned softly.

“What do you mean?”

“My stomach,” Blaine choked out. “Ngg Kurt, gonna...” Thankfully, Blaine still had the wherewithal to tug his oxygen mask out of the way just in time.

Kurt jumped into action, grabbing a small plastic basin from the tray table near the bed. He succeeded in getting it under Blaine's chin just before he retched and threw up. “Shh, get it all out,” he soothed, rubbing Blaine's back while he threw up several more times.

After a few minutes, Blaine went still again. “All done?” Kurt queried.

“For now,” Blaine groaned and sank back against the pillows. He was crying a little, his chest shaking with a unsteady, hitching breaths.

Kurt placed the soiled basin back on the tray so that he could attend to Blaine first. He reached out and moved the oxygen mask back over Blaine's nose and mouth. “Try to take some deep breaths, honey. It'll help,” he urged.

“Blaine?” Mrs. Anderson called sleepily from the recliner where she'd been napping. She dragged her eyes open, wincing when she noticed that Blaine was crying again. She stood and joined Kurt at Blaine's bedside. “What's wrong, angel?”

“He just threw up,” Kurt disclosed.

“Oh no,” Pam lamented. “Do you want a cool cloth for your head like I used to do when you were little?” she asked.

Blaine sniffled and nodded wearily. “Need to – rinse – my mouth out - too,” he heaved.

“Of course, I'll get you some water.” Mrs. Anderson disappeared out of the room, returning minutes later with a small pink pitcher of ice water and a damp washcloth. She brought the washcloth to Blaine's face, dabbing away the cold sweat from his cheeks, neck, and upper lip before gently settling the cloth on his forehead. Next, she grabbed a styrofoam cup and poured a small amount of water into it from the pitcher. She unwrapped a straw and dropped it into the cup before bringing it to Blaine's lips. “Here, sweetie.”

Blaine took a short pull from the straw and swirled the water around in his mouth. Kurt grabbed the basin again and held it in front of Blaine's face so he could spit out the excess water. “Better?” he wondered out loud, glad when Blaine signaled that it was.

One of the ICU nurses slid open the glass door to their room, stepping inside. “I heard you threw up?” she asked sympathetically. “I'm going to give you some medication for nausea along with your next dose of pain medicine. Hopefully you'll be able to get some rest once the medicines kick in.”

Kurt watched Blaine carefully as the nurse injected both medications into his IV one after another and quickly cheeked his vital signs. Thankfully, so far his vitals had managed to hold pretty steady. Blaine's oxygen levels dropped anytime they tried to decrease the oxygen concentration. However, as long as they kept him on 100% oxygen, he did pretty well. Kurt knew he wasn't quite out of the woods yet, but he felt a little less terrified with each passing hour. Now if they could only find a way to make Blaine more comfortable, Kurt would truly be able to relax.

Kurt noticed that Blaine's grip on his hand was slowly getting weaker. He looked over to see Blaine's face go slack as the pain medication started to kick in. “Feeling better, honey?” he asked.

“Much better,” Blaine slurred. “Let's go to bed, Kurt.”

“Okay,” Kurt smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Sleep now.”

“Come to bed,” Blaine whined.

“I don't think we'll both fit,” Kurt chuckled. “I'm going to sleep here in the chair, but I'll keep holding your hand, alright?”

“We'll fit, 'm tiny,” Blaine pouted. Kurt couldn't help but glance over at Mrs. Anderson, feeling a bit awkward.

Kurt needn't have worried. Pam smiled warmly at the two of them and said,“if it'll make Blaine feel better so he can get some rest, I think it's an excellent idea. Don't you, Kurt?”

“Of course,” he breathed, helpless as always to resist any request where Blaine's comfort was concerned. “Scoot over,” he whispered to Blaine. He carefully rearranged the numerous tubes and wires Blaine was connected to until there was space to lay down beside him. It was a tight squeeze, but they fit, especially once Blaine resettled his head on Kurt's chest.

“Love you,” Blaine mumbled sleepily.

“Love you too. So much,” Kurt murmured, pressing a kiss to Blaine's hair.

* * *

Kurt was jolted awake a little after 7 am by the sound of violent coughing. It took him a moment to get his bearings in the dim light of the hospital room but once he did, he realized that Blaine was still curled up on his chest, coughing and wheezing.

Kurt rubbed his back, trying to encourage him to draw air into his lungs. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Blaine shook his head, eyes filling with panicky tears. “Shit,” Kurt swore. He tried to lift Blaine into more of a seated position, hoping that being upright would make it easier to breathe. Still no improvement.

Anxiety growing by the second, Kurt reached out blindly, trying to locate the call button, but it was too far away for him to reach with Blaine lying on top of him. “Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt called. When she didn't respond, he shouted, more loudly this time. “Pam!”

Mrs. Anderson startled awake, immediately looking towards the bed. “Kurt? What's wrong?”

“Blaine can't breathe. Can you get the nurse?” Kurt begged. She was on her feet in an instant, practically sprinting towards the nurse's station.

“Hang on, hang on,” Kurt pleaded with Blaine as he continued to cough. “There's help on the way, honey. Just try to breathe.”

Second later Mrs. Anderson was returning with two nurses. They took one look at Blaine and flew into action. One nurse hung another IV bag of steroids while the other hooked up the nebulizer to give Blaine medications to halt his asthma attack. It felt like everyone in the room was holding their breath while they waited to see if Blaine would respond. Thankfully, after a few minutes of the breathing treatment, his coughing and wheezing started to slow. Blaine sagged against Kurt, too exhausted to even hold up his own head. Kurt kept whispering the same stream of reassurances and encouragements over and over while Mrs. Anderson held Blaine's hand and wiped the tears from his eyes with a tissue.

“I'm going to page the pulmonary doctor and let him know that Blaine had another asthma attack,” one of the nurses announced. “Blaine's scheduled for a bronchoscopy this morning but I'm not sure if he'll want to delay it now or not. I'll let you know once I talk to him, okay? In the meantime, I'm going to leave the nebulizer running. Just hit the call button if he starts having trouble breathing again.”

“We will, thank you,” Mrs. Anderson communicated.

“Feeling any better, sweetheart?” Kurt wanted to know.

“A little,” Blaine croaked. “I'm exhausted.”

“Close your eyes,” Kurt urged, threading his fingers through the curls at the nape of Blaine's neck.

“Mmkay,” Blaine hummed, already drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 

“What's taking so long?” Kurt worried aloud. “It's been  _hours_.” To distract himself from his growing anxiety, he began to pace the room.

“Hopefully, we'll hear something soon. Cooper's been texting me every five minutes in a panic,” Mrs. Anderson sighed.

“Is he still in Los Angeles?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, although he's about an hour away from hopping on a plane and coming here. He was pretty unhappy with us for letting him miss Blaine's wedding and now he's obviously worried about how Blaine's doing.”

“Sorry about that,” Kurt apologized, feeling a little guilty that his spontaneous proposal had led to family tensions.

“Oh, it's not your fault, honey. We're thrilled that you and Blaine decided to get married. Cooper's just mad he didn't get to throw a big bachelor party for Blaine and embarrass him with his wedding toast. You know how he is,” Pam said with a fond look of exasperation on his face.

“Yeah,” Kurt laughed. “Maybe Blaine and I will take a trip out there to visit once he's feeling better.”

“I'm sure Cooper would love that.”

They both looked up as the door to Blaine's room opened. A nurse held the door open so that an orderly could push the gurney on which Blaine was lying into the room. Blaine's eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. Together the nurse and orderly gathered up the sheets under his body and slowly slid him from the gurney to his hospital bed.

“He did great,” the nurse told them once Blaine was settled and had been reconnected to the monitors. “They gave him a fairly hefty dose of painkillers and sedatives for the procedure so he'll be pretty groggy for the rest of the afternoon. He just needs to sleep it off.”

“How did the test go? Were his lungs okay or..?” Mrs. Anderson wanted to know

“There was a bit of fluid in his lungs which isn't surprising given how much smoke he inhaled. The pulmonologist drained it so he should start breathing a bit easier once he's recovered from the test,” she recounted patiently. “Just call if you need anything, okay? Someone will be back in about thirty minutes to check his vitals again.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiled gratefully. He reached out and captured Blaine's hand in his, squeezing it gently. He was surprised to feel Blaine return his squeeze. “Blaine?”

“Hey,” Blaine slurred after a minute, not bothering to open his eyes. “Kurt?”

“Yeah, I'm here,” he reassured.

“Is it over?” he murmured.

“All done. You did great. Just rest now, okay?” Kurt recommended.

Instead, Blaine dragged his eyes open, blinking heavily at Kurt. “Why are there two of you?” he pondered

“Two of me?” Kurt was confused.

“I see two Kurts right now. It's... awesome!” Blaine babbled.

Kurt laughed long and hard for the first time in what felt like years. “They drugged you up pretty well, huh?” he said when he could finally breathe again, wiping tears from his eyes from laughing so hard.

“Mhmm, I feel floaty,” Blaine moaned appreciatively. He looked around the room, his eyes not really focusing on anything. He stopped short when he noticed his mom sitting across from him and smiling fondly. “Oh shit,” he stage whispered to Kurt. “Don't tell my mom I'm high, okay?”

Kurt giggled, exchanging a bemused look with Pam.

“Oh don't be silly, Blaine. I got high a lot when I was your age. I won't judge,” Mrs. Anderson was amused.

“Mooooom,” Blaine gulped. “You were a stoner? How embarrassing. Gonna tell Coop.” Kurt and Mrs. Anderson laughed again.

“Kuuurt,” Blaine whined. “C'mere.”

Kurt gamely leaned forward, resting his arms on the bed rail and gazing down at Blaine. “What's up?”

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you, silly,” Kurt grinned, holding up their intertwined hands.

“Not like that. Like we did on our honeymoon,” Blaine slurred.

“Uhh, now's not really the time or place for that,” Kurt blushed. “Besides, you need to rest now.”

“Please?” Blaine pouted, looking up at Kurt with the wide puppy dog eyes he was always so helpless to resist.

Kurt sighed, reaching out a hand and stroking Blaine's hair. “Close your eyes,” he commanded.

“Mmm, feels good,” he murmured sleepily. “Love you.”

Kurt bent down to kiss his forehead. “I love you too.”

* * *

Two and a half days later, Blaine was well on his way to recovery. He'd been moved out of the ICU after thirty-six hours, much to the great relief of Kurt and Blaine's mom. Since then, they'd started to slowly decrease his supplemental oxygen. The pulmonologist declared that was he was “cautiously optimistic” in Blaine's improvement and hoped they'd be able to release him from the hospital by the end of the week.

Kurt was just as relieved to see signs of the old Blaine returning. He was talking more (albeit with a very husky voice) and sleeping less. More importantly, he wasn't constantly coughing and crying out in pain. Kurt had sent Mrs. Anderson home last night to sleep in her own bed, giving him some much needed alone time with Blaine. However, he hadn't anticipated their private time together being quite so emotional. Kurt had broken down, the overwhelming fear and anxiety of the last four days finally catching up to him. Blaine had held him as he cried, promising he'd never risk his life again. Kurt had clung to him like he was drowning, simply holding on into the early hours of the morning. Finally, they'd both fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep with Kurt's hand settled over Blaine's heart, needing to feel the reassuring thump of his heartbeat against his hand in order to rest peacefully.

Kurt couldn't help but think about all the things that had led him back to Blaine. There was a tiny voice in his head that kept shouting  _what if, what if._  What if he hadn't reunited with Blaine before the wedding? What if he hadn't known instinctively that getting married alongside Brittany and Santana was the right thing to do? What if the coffee shop he was supposed to meet Blaine at that day hadn't been closed for painting? What if the two Warblers hadn't been able to get Blaine out of the building in time? There were so many ways that things could have gone horribly wrong, ways that couldn't have been fixed by a few days stay in the hospital.

Those fears had shaken Kurt to his very core. But they'd also made him almost stupidly grateful for Blaine and what they'd survived together. Now he intended to spend every day thanking the universe for the gift of Blaine's life, of their shared life together, by appreciating his husband. He'd learn to communicate better, to be more open and trusting, to forgive more and fight less. He'd learned that nothing positive came from throwing in the towel too soon. He'd thought, perhaps naively, that by breaking up with Blaine and quitting while they were ahead, he could preserve something positive in their relationship: their friendship. Instead, he'd nearly lost the most precious thing he'd ever had. He wouldn't make those same mistakes twice.

* * *

“Knock-knock,” Rachel called, startling awake a dozing Kurt and Blaine. “Are you feeling up to some visitors? We promise not to overstay our welcome since I'm sure you need your rest.”

“Of course, come in,” Blaine spoke hoarsely, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Kurt yawned and stretched his hands overhead, turning his shoulders from side to side until his back popped. His eyes widened as a large group of students filed into the room, including Rachel, Kitty, Sam, Jane, Roderick, the McCarthy twins, and a handful of Warblers whose names Kurt didn't know.

“Whoa, hey guys.” Blaine was wide eyed as well at the number of visitors, struggling to sit up a little straighter. Kurt reached over and hit the button to raise the head of the bed for him and readjusted the pillows behind his head on autopilot as he'd done so many times over the past few days.

“Hi Blaine,” Rachel greeted him, rounding the bed to give him a tight hug. “I'm so glad you're doing better,” she added as they parted. She picked up a small potted plant that she'd set on the floor while she was embracing him. “We brought you a little something. Where should I put it?”

“Oh, you didn't have to get me anything, Rachel,” Blaine smiled. “But it's beautiful.”

“Over there by the window on the ledge is good,” Kurt added.

“Hey bro, glad you're going to make it,” Sam said, giving Blaine's shoulder a squeeze. He tried to play it off as casual, but Kurt knew differently, given how many times Sam had texted him over the past few days, worried sick about Blaine.

“You and me both,” Blaine chuckled. Unfortunately, the laughing triggered the persistent cough that Blaine still hadn't been able to shake. He bent over as he hacked and Kurt rubbed his back while the visitors all looked on with concern. Rachel and Sam both winced in sympathy at the harsh barking sound.

“Okay?” Kurt whispered when Blaine stopped coughing at last. “Do you need some water?”

Blaine nodded, gratefully accepting the cup of ice water and taking several long pulls from the straw before he passed it back to Kurt.

He blushed as he looked around the room and realized all eyes were on him. “Sorry about that, guys,” he apologized, though Kurt had no idea what for. “How are you guys holding up?” he asked the Warblers, wanting to fill the slightly awkward silence.

“Oh, you know, the best we can given that our school burned to the ground,” Mason laughed darkly, his obvious bitterness simmering below the surface.

“They weren't able to salvage any wing of the building?” Blaine flinched, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, unfortunately not. We haven't had class all week, but the headmaster promised he'd let us know how they were going to handle the rest of the semester by next week.”

“It's awful,” Rachel agreed. “We're so sorry, you guys.”

Another Warbler who Kurt recognized as Colin, one of the students who'd helped Blaine out of the building, spoke up. “It  _is_  sad but honestly? Greg and I are just grateful to be alive and we have you to thank for that, Mr. Anderson.”

“I'm sure you guys would've made it out even without me,” Blaine said modestly.

“No, we wouldn't have,” Greg insisted. “We had no idea what was going on. We thought it was just a stupid fire drill or a student setting off the smoke detector by sneaking a cigarette in his dorm room. The fire was halfway down the hall by the time you found us. I'm pretty sure by the time we realized we needed to get out, it would have been too late. You risked your life to save us and we owe you everything.”

“I'm just glad everything worked out okay. That's what's really important,” Blaine was emphatic, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. Kurt squeezed his hand, those same what ifs playing on a loop in his brain. His heart was filled with pride for his husband's brave, selfless actions, even as he couldn't help but feel a little terrified by how reckless Blaine had been. He imagined it was probably the same way Blaine had felt after he'd intervened when he saw a couple of guys beating someone up in an alley and nearly got himself killed in the process. 

“So, we were talking,” Colin piped up again. “Our parents were just so relieved to hear that we were okay and once we told them that you were responsible for saving our lives, they wanted to do something to show their gratitude.”

“Oh please, it's not necessary,” Blaine tried to insist.

“It is,” Colin shot back. “They were adamant. They want to start a scholarship fund to cover Dalton tuition for a low-income student in The Warblers in your name.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine gasped, too speechless to say more. Kurt sensed his hesitation but knew that he'd ultimately accept. Once upon a time, Kurt had been that student who desperately needed the escape that Dalton provided but whose father could scarcely afford the tuition. He knew Blaine would realize that eventually and would want a low-income student to have that same opportunity that had saved his own husband's life.

“What a generous offer,” Kurt confirmed. “When Blaine gets over the shock, I'm sure he'll be happy to accept. Right, Blaine?”

Blaine opened and closed his mouth several times but no sound came out. Instead, he nodded dazedly. “Thank you,” he managed at last.

“No, thank  _you_ ,” Greg said. “It's the very least we could do.”

“We've got a proposal too,” Rachel announced, clapping her hands together excitedly. Kurt could tell she'd been struggling to keep quiet for as long as she had.

“Oh yeah?” Blaine was obviously curious.

Kurt grinned, already aware of Rachel's master plan. Rachel had called him yesterday, wanting his approval as co-director of the New Directions before she asked Blaine. He just hoped Blaine would be as receptive to the idea as he had been.

“Well, all of us at McKinley were just beside ourselves when we heard the news about Dalton. We knew how much the academy meant to you and Kurt, not to mention your students. And while the  Warblers are our direct competition when it comes to show choir, we never wanted you guys to be taken out of the running like this. To be honest, our glee club is also in a bind because we still haven't managed to recruit enough members to have the minimum of twelve required for Sectionals. So we just thought, why not have your Warblers join our New Directions? It's going to take a really killer group of kids to defeat Vocal Adrenaline and with our two groups together, we'd be unstoppable!” Rachel exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Did you know about this?” Blaine inquired of Kurt.

“Yes, she called me to get my permission yesterday, but she swore me to secrecy,” Kurt admitted. “Don't be mad.”

“I could never be mad at you,” Blaine reassured. He looked to the Warblers. “How about you guys? What do you think?”

“We want to compete,” Mason said simply. “We don't want this to be the end of our competition season.”

“Besides, the New Directions managed to beat us at the Invitational, so clearly they're doing something right,” Greg added.

“Wow,” Blaine breathed. “I honestly don't know what to say, Rachel.”

“Just say yes?” she begged.

“Yes, of course. We'd be honored to compete alongside you,” Blaine beamed. The room erupted into cheers and applause.

“Looks like we're going to be working together for the next few weeks,” Kurt grinned as he gave Blaine a quick peck on the lips.

“I can't think of anything I'd love more,” Blaine sighed happily. “Except you, of course.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. If you want to share their fic on Tumblr, please do so by reblogging the original post which can be found [here](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/115111906400/as-though-fire-burns-under-your-feet-2-2). I'm currently taking prompts for this verse. If you have an idea you'd like me to write, you can share it with me [here](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/ask).


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